


A Matter of Taste

by justheretobreakthings



Series: Gentron: Legendary Friendships [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Gen, Humor, little dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretobreakthings/pseuds/justheretobreakthings
Summary: As it turns out, Keith is the only paladin who actually likes Coran's cooking.





	A Matter of Taste

Keith hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake at this hour. According to the clocks that Pidge had rigged up to try to approximate their usual twenty-four-hour cycles, and the dimmed lights that Coran had set up to accomidate it, it was the Castle’s equivalent of roughly three in the morning.

So when the lights in the kitchen suddenly turned to their full brightness with a loud click in the middle of his late-night snack, he was startled enough to jump, knocking into the counter and knocking over the dish of leftovers that he had been eating from.

He whipped around to find Coran standing in the doorway, giving him a sheepish wave. “My apologies, Number Four,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You – you didn’t scare me,” Keith said.

“Ah, I see,” Coran said with a brisk nod. “So just now, you hopped like that simply out of excitement to see me?”

“… Maybe.”

Coran huffed out a laugh. “In any case, what are you doing out of bed? The other paladins are all sound asleep right now, and you all need the rest.”

“I, ah, couldn’t sleep,” Keith said. “Was just feeling a little, um… energized, I guess? Thought I’d get some training in.”

“Here in the kitchen?”

“On the training deck. I just came here afterward to get something to… um…” His eyes drifted to the dish that he had upturned moments ago and the food – which he had determined to be some sort of tart-tasting vegetable dumplings – that had splattered onto the floor as a result. “Shit. I’m so sorry, I’ll get this cleaned right up.”

He got down onto the floor and started picking up the larger chunks of dumpling, and behind him, he heard the sound of a cabinet opening and closing before Coran appeared squatting at his side. “Make room there, lad, I’ll help wipe this up.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Nonsense, Number Four, no reason I shouldn’t help. Besides, no one else can ever get these floors to sparkle the way I – ” He paused, staring closer at the stains on the floor before turning to look at the food in Keith’s hands.

Keith glanced down at them too, trying to figure out what had suddenly gotten Coran’s attention. “Uh, Coran?” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Those aren’t Hunk’s cooking,” Coran said slowly. “Those are mine.”

A lump instantly formed in Keith’s throat. “These – these are yours?” Coran nodded. “Oh – oh God.” Keith straightened up and backed away. “I swear, I didn’t know they were yours, Coran, I just thought, you know, the leftovers in the fridge are pretty much up for grabs if there isn’t a note, and there wasn’t a note, so – ”

Coran interrupted him by holding up a hand, and Keith let his babbling taper off. “Did you like them?” Coran asked.

Keith frowned, trying to read Coran’s expression. It didn’t look angry, but Keith couldn’t tell what emotion he _did_ seem to be conveying. “Um,” he said. “Yeah, I – yeah, they were – they weren’t bad…”

For a moment longer Coran simply stared up at him, then, his face suddenly broke into a broad, beaming grin. “You really liked them?” he asked, sounding for a moment almost like a child asking their parent for validation.

Keith raised a brow. “Yeah, uh, I thought they – ”

“Oh, this is fantastic!” Coran cried, hopping up from the floor. “I had thought that you Earthlings simply did not have the palate for Altean cuisine and comestibles! I had Lance taste-test this particular batch after I’d finished making them, and his face turned a most peculiar shade of chartruse and he refused to eat another bite. And Shiro won’t even sniff the air around the stuff… it’s an old Smythe family recipe, you know, passed down for generations. I’m so thrilled you can appreciate it!”

Too taken aback to know how to respond, Keith said nothing as Coran continued. “Oh, you know what, there’s something you ought to try. Stay right where you are, Number Four.” With that, he dashed over to the pantry, rummaged through it, and soon emerged unwrapping a package of what looked to be a gray jerky of some sort. “Spent an afternoon on these,” Coran said. “Go on, try some!”

Keith dropped the dumplings he was still holding into the sink and hesitantly took the jerky. Coran leaned in to watch, folding his hands near his chin and pursing his lips in his concentration. Keith also could swear that Coran’s eager eyes had somehow grown larger.

He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. The meat was tough, smoky, and had a very unexpected hint of sweetness to it, but the combination somehow seemed to work. He took another bite, and Coran let out an honest-to-god squeal of delight.

“Oh, this is wonderful, wonderful!” he cried. “You like my cooking! You actually, truly like it!”

It wasn’t so much a matter of liking or not liking the food, to be honest. There were very few foods that Keith wouldn’t eat, and with the number of different homes he had bounced between as a kid, and thus the number of different styles of cooking and types of food families were accustomed to serving, he couldn’t exactly afford to be picky. Especially among the ones who had a policy of ‘eat what we put in front of you or don’t eat at all’.

He probably wouldn’t have survived his year in the desert if he’d been concerned about whether or not the things he ate tasted good. After you’ve had the experience of eating nothing for three days but chuckwalla roasted over an open campfire, anything else was a culinary masterpiece in comparison.

But he wasn’t about to tell Coran that, not when the man’s spirits were so high. So instead he gave him a nod and a small smile. “Yeah, I do,” he said.

“This opens so many doors for you, my boy!” Coran said. “There are so, so many traditional Altean recipes that you would surely love – oh, perhaps I can take charge of making your lunches from now on! And your desserts, there are a few that – well, you don’t mind a little bit of gastrointestinal, ah, _flux_, do you? Because there are some fruits I would love to work with a bit, they can leave you feeling a little out of sorts afterward, but by the stars, the taste is absolutely worth it! Ah, I wonder how we’re doing on our stock of spices. We may have to do a bit of shopping, some of my favorite dishes require several barrels…”

Keith felt his smile become stiff as Coran continued prattling on, half to himself, but he tried to keep looking enthusiastic. What the hell had he gotten himself into?


End file.
